


Not My Name

by Blue_Night



Category: Men's Football RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Break Up, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Feelings, Feelings Realization, Leaving, M/M, Painful Truths, Past Relationship(s), Post-Break Up, Relationship(s), Song Lyrics, Unrequited Love, coming together again, still in love, talks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-08-10 01:19:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16460717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Night/pseuds/Blue_Night
Summary: Marco and Mario have become more than just friends a couple of months ago, but Erik's shadow is still hanging over them.Erik had to leave Dortmund to save his career, and he tries to start anew in England and with another man by his side, but he simply can't forget his first love Marco.





	1. My Name is not Erik

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GoForGoals](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoForGoals/gifts), [mariothellama](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariothellama/gifts).



> For my two soulmates. <33
> 
> My dearest friends,  
> my muse is very moody these days and doesn't cooperate only the slightest. It refuses to help me writing the chapters and updates I should write, and which I actually promised to write. Instead it keeps pushing me to write non-fluffy things, planting stories in my mind that refuse to leave me alone.  
> Maybe it's foolish to keep the Durmeus-ship sailing, but I know that Durmeus is still your first love too, so this is for you! 
> 
> This story is inspired by the old song _**My Name Is Not Susan**_ from **Whitney Houston**. The lyrics slightly are changed to fit it with this story, but the credits all go to the original song, singer and songwriter(s).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco and Mario have a serious talk about their relationship, and Marco has to face the truth about his feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lines in Italic are the first part of the song, changed to fit it with this first chapter. I'm sorry for breaking Götzeus hearts. <33

_One night not long ago_  
_I fell for you_  
_Too easy to let go_  
_He was one from your past_  
_One of the few_  
_You said it didn't last_

 

It's a rainy and rather cold Sunday morning when Mario asks him to come over.

It's been a couple of weeks only since they've started to date and become more than the close friends they've been for so long, and Marco doesn't know what to make out of Mario's serious tone on the phone earlier when he rings the door bell instead of using the key Mario had given him last month.

The blond Dortmunder is aware that most people wouldn't think that he and Mario have never been more than just friends over the years, especially considering how close they were before Mario transferred to Munich and how heartbroken he was about the younger one's move to another city and club.

But they'd both been too shy to come closer and take things further back then, and Marco needed a long time to get over his hurt and the feeling of betrayal he'd had about the sad truth that Mario could leave him just like that for the temptation that promised more money and fame and which had apparently so much more alluring than Marco's love for him had been.

Erik was the one helping him to get over Mario eventually, Erik who's gone now as well, but not because he wanted to leave Dortmund, following the too tempting call for more money and fame like Mario had done, but because he had to save his career when he wasn't wanted in Dortmund any longer.

Marco sighs and tries to shake off the thought of the one who has been his anchor for so long, smiling at Mario when the shorter one opens the door to let him in, still so trapped in the memories about a pair of beautiful hazel-green eyes that he's actually surprised to find a pair of dark brown eyes looking up at him for a split second.

“Hello Er... Mario!” he says, hoping that Mario hasn't noticed his mistake.

“Hello Marco, please come in,” Mario says without smiling back, and Marco follows him inside with a sinking feeling, not sure that he wants to hear what Mario might want to tell him.

 

***

 

_Now Romeo you know I can't believe_  
_Your tongue would slip so easily_  
_I know you think I oughta let it be_  
_But get it right, next time_  
_That's the end of me_

 

They sit at Mario's kitchen table, and Marco watches the younger one clinging to his cup with both hands, staring into the steaming caramel brown beverage. Erik always liked his coffee black, and Marco briefly wonders if this is still the case or if the other one has changed since his move to England – if Erik has already changed as much as Mario had changed when he came back to Dortmund after his time in Munich.

“I thought that I could do that, Marco, I really thought that I could live with Erik's shadow still hanging over us, but I don't think that I can,” Mario finally begins to speak, his voice small and calm, shallow.

Marco swallows and closes his eyes for a moment. “Erik and I have broken up when he moved to Huddersfield,” he says after a moment or two, and he can hear his own voice trembling. He tried so hard to get over Erik, but he realizes now that he is far from being indifferent towards the man he never dared to call his boyfriend as long as Erik was still playing for their beloved BVB.

The one he actually never told how much he loves him when they were still together, always pretending that they were only teammates and friends with benefits and nothing more.

“I know. But you're still not over him, Marco.” Mario looks up at him, and he doesn't look angry or as if he was blaming Marco in any way, only exhausted and resigned about the things he doesn't have the power or chance to change. “It's funny, isn't it? If I hadn't left you back then, we probably would have come together much sooner - and Erik would have been the one suffering from a broken heart now. But I did, and he was the one filling the hole I'd left.”

Marco wants to reach out to take Mario's hand, but he lets his hand drop down again when he sees the look on the younger one's face. Mario looks so young and heartbroken, and yet so brave and strong that Marco feels guilty and amazed at the same time.

“I love you, Marco, but my love for you is not enough to make you forget him, and I don't think that it will ever be enough – at least not as long as you still have feelings for him. You need to make up your mind about what... about who of us you truly want – him or me.” Mario hangs his head down low, and his voice is barely audible when he adds:

“Sometimes you even mix up our names, Marco, when you're not really paying attention to what you're saying. It hurts.”

Marco wants to slap himself, and the lump in his throat is choking him. “I'm sorry, Mario, I really am. I never wanted to hurt you. You mean a lot to me, you really do.”

There is a long moment of silence between them, and Marco stares down at the shock of brown hair, tears prickling in his eyes. There are tears on Mario's face as well when he looks up again, his smile a smile of sorrow and regret, but also genuine and understanding.

“I know that you never meant to hurt me, Marco. It's my own fault after all, I should never have left you. But I did, and I don't blame you for having moved on. Maybe there's still hope left for us, I don't know. But you need to sort things out with Erik at first. Talk to him and find out what you really want, Marco. I don't want to ever hear you calling me Erik again. That's not my name.”

 

_My Name is not Erik_  
_So watch what you say_  
_If you still need him_  
_Then be on your way_  
_Don't wanna hear about Erik_  
_He's got nothing on me_  
_So show some respect for the love you receive_  
_My name is not Erik_

_No, no, no, no, no get it right..._

 

Marco swallows but he nods. He rises to his feet and bends down to press a chaste kiss onto Mario's hair. “I'm sorry,” he whispers before he pulls the key out of his pocket to put it onto the kitchen table next to Mario's cup. “I'm so sorry, Sunny. But you're right, I think that I still love him,” he says, and he truly wished that he didn't still love Erik as much as he does. Mario remains silent, staring into his cup again, and after a minute or so Marco straightens his shoulders and takes a step back from the table to put some distance between them.

Then he turns around and leaves.


	2. My Name is not Marco

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik is trying to move on in England and love Christopher the way he would deserve it, but he simply can't forget Marco.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My dearest friends,  
> the first 2 chapters were clear in my head and more or less wrote themselves quickly, the next one will take a while longer. I guess that I'm supposed to make up for all the hurt in the first ones and try to write some happy and fluffy Götzeus and Durmindler after that, am I not? ;-P
> 
> The lines in Italic are the second part of the song changed to fit into this chapter.

Forgetting Marco is so much harder than he'd ever thought that it could be.

There are so many things reminding Erik of the blond player, even here in England, and he finds himself following the games of his former club like an addicted who can't let go of his drug, his eyes anxiously searching for Marco's slim figure and his blond hair every time he does.

Erik knows that he should be grateful for the chance he has gotten here in Huddersfield, for finally playing on a regular basis again, but he's still missing his old clubs and his friends, and most of all he's missing the man who was so much more to him than just a teammate and friend for years.

Erik never dared to tell Marco how much he loved him, and he keeps telling him that it's better this way, but he just can't stop thinking of him and of what they had – even when he's together with Christopher – no matter how hard he tries to leave everything behind and start anew.

Christopher is everything Erik could ever wish for and even more, he's kind and caring and loving, tender and passionate, and Erik knows that Christopher truly loves him with all his heart, he can see it in his eyes every time the dark-haired defender is looking at him.

But he's not Marco, he's not the man Erik simply can't get over, because Marco was his first love and will always be.

Erik still closes his eyes with the memory of how Marco's name tasted on his lips when he goes to sleep every night, and his first thought still belongs to him when he wakes up again in Christopher's arms.

He tries to forget how Marco's arms felt around him, he really does. He tries to forget Marco's mischievous crooked smile and the golden sparks dancing in his eyes when they made love, always calling it just sex or tension release, even though it was always so much more to Erik.

Erik promises to himself that the next day will be different every single time he goes to bed at night, just to wake up and find out that nothing has changed, that Marco's name is still the first thought coming to his mind.

Erik wakes up on another Sunday morning, cold and gray and rainy, the long and hot summer faded to a lingering memory like the touch of Marco's lips on his own.

He stares at the white ceiling of his bedroom, a bedroom he still has to get familiar with. Christopher's scent is still detectable on the pillow beside him, but the pillow is cool under his hand, and the depression where Christopher's head had left its imprint during the night is already gone.

Erik sighs and gets up from the bed to dress, the man he has fallen asleep next to last night intermingling in his mind with the man he's still dreaming of almost every single night to one single person until Erik can't differentiate them any longer and only one name unconsciously slips from his lips:

_“Marco...”_

 

***

 

_Last night you were asleep_  
_Deep in a dream_  
_I heard you call his name_  
_Then you turned to embrace_  
_I froze in place_  
_Never to be the same_

 

Christopher is standing before the kitchen window with a mug in his hand when Erik comes into the kitchen, the coffee steaming in the chilly morning air.

“Hi Erik, did you sleep well?” he asks as he turns around to look at him, and he doesn't smile.

“Yes, thank you, Chris,” Erik gives back feeling wary, walking over to the coffee machine to serve himself the hot brew. Christopher is already fully dressed, just like Erik is, and his expression is carefully controlled and calm.

Too calm.

“How about you?” Erik wants to know, just to fill the silence between them.

Christopher regards him quietly, and he leans against the counter with his left arm wrapped around his midsection, holding the cup before his chest as if he wanted to protect himself.

“We need to talk, Erik,” he says, and he doesn't need to say what he wants to talk about – who he wants to talk about – because Erik already knows.

So he only nods, leaning against the fridge and clenching both hands around his cup of coffee. It's hot, burning his fingers, but Erik doesn't care.

“I thought that I could make you forget him, that my feelings for you would be enough for both of us, but they aren't. You're still thinking of him, dreaming of him,” Christopher says, and he doesn't sound accusing or angry, just tired and regretful.

Erik bites down on his lip and blinks. He likes Christopher, he really likes him, and he wished that he could just stop loving Marco and forget him, but he can't. Christopher deserves better than to be the man behind Marco, the second one, the one Erik is trying to fill the emptiness in his heart with, always failing because no one will ever be able to replace Marco in his heart. Christopher deserves to be the only one in Erik's thoughts and in his dreams, he deserves to be the one Erik is whispering his name when he falls asleep.

 

_Now Romeo you know I never knew_  
_My heart would bust so easily_  
_I know you think I oughta let it go_  
_But get it right next time_  
_Say goodbye to me boy_

 

“I'm trying, Chris, I really am,” he murmurs, looking pleadingly at the older one with the dark hair and the beautiful dark-brown eyes. Marco's eyes are of a different color, amber-green with golden sparks, and Erik truly hates himself for a moment that he's still comparing, that he's still longing for someone he can't have.

Marco belongs to his past, while Christopher ought to be his future, so why can't he simply let go?

“I know that you are, Erik. But it's him you're still dreaming of, it's his name you're still whispering when you're talking in your sleep.” Christopher's expression is calm, but Erik can see the deep hurt in his eyes.

 

_My name is not Marco_  
_So watch what you say_  
_If you still need him_  
_Then be on your way_  
_Don't wanna hear about Marco_  
_He's got nothin' on me_  
_So show some respect for the love you receive_  
_My name is not Marco_

_No, no, no,no, no, get it right._

 

“I'm sorry, Chris, I'm so sorry.” What else can he say?

“I know, handsome.” Christopher puts his mug back onto the counter and bridges the distance between them with slow and tired steps. “I love you, but I'm not the one you want, and I have to accept that. I'd hoped that my love for you would be enough for you to get over him and return my feelings for you one day, but that's not going to happen, I fear. You still love him, don't you?”

Erik returns Christopher's gaze, even though he wants to look away. “Yes, I do.”

Erik had never told Marco that he loves him, and it hurts to say the words aloud for the first time to someone else, but Christopher at least deserves honesty.

Christopher nods. “Yes, you do. I'll better leave you then, there's nothing left to say, I guess.” He pauses, swallowing audibly before he adds quietly: “You should try to talk to him, Erik, maybe it's not too late for you two.” He cups Erik's wet cheek to press a gentle kiss on his forehead, stroking over his trembling lips with his thumb before he turns around and leaves without any other word.

Erik listens to the quiet sounds when he puts on his shoes and his jacket, to the jingling noise the key he gave Christopher a couple of days ago is making when the other one leaves it on the sideboard in the corridor.

_I never wanted to be the man that you call one and only_  
_You know the kind of man that you would call when you get lonely_  
_I never should have let you in_  
_A damn shame, forget my name!_  
_Well, anyway_

_My name is not Marco_  
_So watch what you say_  
_If you still need him_  
_Then be on your way_  
_Don't wanna hear about Marco_  
_He's got nothin' on me_  
_So show some respect for the love you receive_  
_My name is not Marco_

_No, no, no,no, no, get it right._

_Don't want to hear about Marco_  
_My name ain't Marco_  
_My name ain't Marco_  
_My name ain't Marco_  
_Ya better get it right!_

 

The door opens and closes quietly, and then he's alone again, alone with his bad conscience, his racing thoughts and his empty heart.

Alone with Marco's whispered name on his lips.

Erik doesn't know how long he's been standing in his cold and lonely kitchen before he finds the strength to move, slowly walking over to the living room where he left his phone last night.

He takes it from the coffee table and sits down on his sofa, staring down at the dark screen for a rather long time before he finally switches it on to type a message.

_'Hi Marco, can we meet? We need to talk. Erik.'_


End file.
